


2 Captains 1 Ship

by I_Am_Terra



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMFJohn, M/M, Pirate Sherlock, don't want to add too much tags, soilder john, what if i spoil the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Terra/pseuds/I_Am_Terra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Holmes is infamous for his bravery, wit and foresight. His pirate ship, the Beekeeper, is feared throughout the land.<br/>Captain never envisioned that he would fall for the Captain with the dirty blonde hair when he ambushed a squad of soldiers one night. </p><p>Written by a bored girl faithfully waiting for new chapters to this fic http://archiveofourown.org/works/2449832/chapters/5429192 by<br/>SherlockedandLoaded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by SherlockedandLoaded's fanfic mentioned in the summary. So you'll find some stark similarities between the two.

"It was a great idea to sneak out of camp to roast mahseer, John!" Mike exclaimed, grinning wide at John.

 

"Yeah, always look to the captain for great ideas." Another one of John's squadmates teased.

 

John and his squad mates were huddled tightly around a small campfire, roasting mahseer fish they had managed to steal from a large fishing boat undetected. ~~(Because John is a master burglar)~~

 

The sun was just setting, dyeing the beach an inviting orange. The men were fully enjoying the short-lived moment. They rarely got to enjoy canned sardines in camp, much less roasted fish. As they laughed and chatted, a trail of smoke rose lazily from the campfire into the dimming night sky.

*

Sherlock leaned against a large rock, regarding the group of men sitting round a campfire. There were eight in total - military men, from their army print outfit and combat boots. Sherlock had seen the trail of smoke rising up from the beach as he was steering his ship and it instantly peaked his interest.

 

 _Army men_ , Sherlock thought, _they could have guns, which would be rather pleasing to have on the ship_. Sherlock turned around to look at the twenty odd crew members gathered close behind him and give them a quick nod. 

 

"Listen," Sherlock whispered, "I'll go over there and trick them into coming close to this rock, once they're close enough, hit them in the head and carry them to the ship. We outnumber them immensely, so I see no reason for us to fail on this occasion." Sherlock had a large crew of simple-minded thugs, all able-bodied and willing to work hard for their bread and butter. The crew members trusted Sherlock completely. Sherlock had never allowed himself to fail in front of them, he was too good to fail and this time, it was going to be no different.

 

Sherlock could feel a malicious smile forming on his face as his crew members nodded in agreement. He was going the spoil the army men's fun. _How dull_. He quickly tossed his captain's hat and black coat to lestrade before scurrying to a nearby bush.

 

The vines forming the bush had large elephant-ear leaves branching out haphazradly, the thin vines had large red thorns growing on them. The plant looked exotic and the large glistening thorn looked unfamiliar. _The plant couldn't possibly be dangerous._  Sherlock knew that the most dangerous plants were those that looked least promiscuous. Fully confident of his knowledge, Sherlock pulled at one thin vine and used one of the glossy thorn to form a deep scratch across his chest and another on his left arm. He stumbled forward, with blood dripping down his forearm and torso.

 

"Please... Please help me..." He croaked painfully as he neared the army men, "I have been attacked by pirates."

 

All eight men whipped their head around and stared at Sherlock in disbelief. Sherlock stared back from one army men to the other earnestly. Finally, one of them with dirty blonde hair spoke up. "Where are they?" He asked, strangely calm. Sherlock focused his attention on the man. _Why is he so calm?_

 

"They attacked me near that large rock over there," Sherlock's face contorted in pain as he raised his injured arm to point at the rock he had been leaning on previously. "Three of them."

 

"Just three measely pirates?" Another man called out insolently as he stood up. "I bet the eight of us can handle them easily." He waved he arm towards his fellow soldiers.

 

At his words, the other soldiers jumped up with vigor, as if getting ready for battle. They stood erect, all senses on alart and made their way towards the rock. The man with dirly blonde hair, however, did not seem inclined to move.

 

"What's wrong, John?" The man standing close to John with a mop of falxen hair tilted his head, confused.

 

"I'll look after our items." Was his short answer, his eyes staring fixedly at the rock, his mouth pressed into a thin line. All the other men did not question his motives, and they continued on their journey to the accused rock. _He must be one of authority, when he can make all the others docile._ Sherlock observed. 

 

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk as he saw that the men had bought his story entirely. Even the one with authority. _What idiots. This feint isn't even difficult to see through._

 

_*_

 

John stared as his squadmates approached the rock cautiously, his gut feeling told him that something was not right but he wasn't sure what. _His gut feeling was never wrong._

 

As if he had just jinxed his squadmates, a large group of pirates jumped out from behind the rock. The army men, too close to the rock to run, flinched at the sight of the enemy. Each man on the enemy team was large and muscular, to make matters worse they greatly outnumbered the army men, even with guns the soldiers could have considerable difficulty fending them off. The soldiers didn't have a chance at all. _They had left their guns in camp._

 

John gasped and tried to run forward, he knew his assistance could make little difference, but he couldn't just stand there and see his squadmates get beaten to pulp. Before John even lifted his leg, he felt something hit the back of his head and immediately, the world around him went black as he fell onto the sand with a soft 'thud'.

 

*

 

John slowly opened his eyes with a groan, there was a buzzing pain at the back of his head. As he attempted to raise his hand to apply pressure on the wound, he realised that he couldn't. His arms and legs were bound with a surfeit of rope. John was fully conscious now, the soldier immediately sat upright and looked around wildly. His squadmates were scattered around to his left and right, some lying on their sides and some seemed to leaning onto poles of the ship. It looked as if a hurricane had swept them off their feet and deposited them onto a ship.

 

 _Ship?_ John didn't remember boarding a ship, he tried to remember, but the back of his head felt heavy and sore. It was almost as if someone had swung a metal bat at the back of his head, he could imagine the alloy vibrating from the heavy impact. 

 

"Welcome to my ship," John heard a voice that reminded him strangely of dark chocolate. It sounded almost... Familiar. John turned his head towards the source that voice. It was the man from before, scratch marks still present on his chest and left forearm.

 

 _Shit,_ John cursed as memories came flooding back, the memories that have seemed so hard to grasp just a moment before.  _We've been had._

 

The man looked different, broad-brim hat sat atop his raven curls and a saphire slash tied loosely around his hips, keeping in place a long, curved sabre to his right hip. (We all know the saber is not the only thing Sherlock has that is long and curved.) The effect was striking, to top it off the man was wearing a long black coat which ended at his knee and long leather boots. The tail of coat which was flapping in the wind dramatically, as if it was the primadona in a large dance entree. 

 

 _A cutlass,_ John recognized seeing the sabre in a book somewhere. _Bloody hell, we're on a pirate ship._

 

 

"I'm captain Holmes," the man introduced himself as he surveyed the military men, his lips curled up slightly at the ends. 

 

_I have to escape._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever written, so tell me if you enjoyed it or hated it.  
> On a side note, I'm sure some people will try to ask "Hey Terra, y this fic rated M when thr is no sex??" It's rated M because I alluded to sherlock's dick being long and curved, okay? Jeez.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed it!  
> -Terra


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock was exceedingly pleased that his ploy had been a huge success. He was still smiling to himself when he heard one of the military men speak.

 

"I need to use the loo." It was the man with the dirty blonde hair. This man confused Sherlock greatly, from his unusual calmness to his authority.

 

Sherlock didn't answer, and instead stared at the man, examining every detail. The man was half a head shorter than Sherlock and had a determined look to his cinereal eyes. He had a healthy tan and on closer look, his face looked weathered from the stress of the war. After he spoke, he would press his lips lightly together and raise the right side of his mouth slightly. Sherlock found that it was rather charming. _Charming? I never find anyone charming._ However, the more he stared, the more alluring he found the young soldier.

 

Seeing that the captain wasn't going to answer, a deck hand called Anderson replied, "You can use the toilet at the head of our ship." He pointed at a hole in the floorboards at the bow of the ship. The public toilet on the ship was in the open and lead straight into the sea.

 

"I-I can't," the man looked away and tried to fix his gaze on the floorboards, the soldier was clearly embarassed. "... Not in plain sight of all of you."

 

Lestrade, another deck hand, laughed heartily. "You're a shy one, aren't you? Who would want to look at you while you piss?" As lestrade's words fell, a roar of laughter erupted from the crew.

 

Sherlock didn't laugh along, he stepped closer to the blonde, he was still looking down and had begun biting his lower lip. Sherlock continued studying the man, he had a toilet in the captain's room, but he didn't let just _anybody_ enter his room. "Fine, go do your business behind one of those trees," Sherlock finally opened his mouth and pointed to the dense forest bordering the sandy beach. He then turned to Anderson. "Anderson, unbound his ropes, but tie his hands in front of his body."

 

 

Sherlock turned back to the blonde, he wanted to stare at him forever. _What is he doing to you?_ Sherlock kicked himself internally and managed to say, "My crew member, Anderson, will _escort_ you."

 

*

 

 

 _Escort._ John sneered, he walked towards the forest briskly and stopped around a shrub. "Turn around," John ordered Anderson without turning around. The deckhand had been following behind him, the pirate clearly had not intention to make John feel comfortable as he thrashed about noisily as he walked. At that moment, Anderson snorted, but turned around promptly. John's captain voice had this effect on others. John knew that even though this Anderson obeyed his orders, he was still laughing at him, but John didn't care. He was glad that the Captain has assigned such a dense individual to keep watch over him.

 

"Be quick, mate." Anderson called to John, not before snickering.

 

John glared at Anderson. _I am going to pay you back for laughing at me._ He took a measured step towards the pirate. When he saw that the pirate had not noticed that his arrival, he relaxed a little bit. _Only a little bit, I don't want to be noticed, then my chance of escape will go down the drain._  Before long, he was standing right behind the pirate, he could smell the pirate's sweat and wrinkled his nose in disgust. After John had gotten over his revulsion, he lifted his hands, still bound, and in one fell swoop, hit Anderson on the head. Hard. _I told you I was going to pay you back._

 

John looked down proudly at his prize, Anderson was sprawled out on the ground in front John, the sharp side of his cutlass facing John. The beautiful blade shone a cold silver in the moonlight. John quickly bent down and used the fine blade to cut open the ropes tying his wrist together.

 

John let out a soft cry of exultation. He wanted to run away as far as his legs could carry him. Away from danger. Away from those brutal, cruel pirates. _No I can't._  He had to save his squadmates. He was a captain, he had to take care of the other soldiers. He had to come to his squadmates rescue especially since sneaking out to the beach was his idea in first place.

 

John looked around to see if there was a viable hiding place, making sure that he laid low. His line of sight fell on a large ash tree a few yards away.

 

 _I should climb the tree and hide among the foilage._ John decided. _My army print will help me camouflage among the leaves._

 

*

 

"This guy is taking unnaturally long," Sherlock looked in the direction the blonde had walked. He had been suspicious from the start, but now his suspicion was confirmed. _Does that mean I won't ever see him again?_ Sherlock felt a strange sense of longing creep into his heart. 

 

"I'm going to check on them, Donovan come with me." Sherlock commanded as he strolled down the gangplank, hiding his pain behind a mask of indifference. None of his crew noticed Donovan followed orders, coming up close behind him.

 

As Sherlock and Donovan approached a small shrub, they noticed Anderson lying face down on the dirt ground. Pieces of rope scattered around his cutlass.

 

"He's gotten away." Donovan muttered.

 

"Very sound observation." Sherlock commented curtly, his disappointment obvious in his voice. He tried to ignore Donovan's questioning look and inspected his surroudnings. He saw that the lichen growing on one of the large trees nearby had recently been scraped off.

 

 _But why climb a tree?_   Sherlock pondered. _He had ample time to run back to camp and never come back._ Sherlock decided to keep quiet for the time being to find out what the blonde was up to.

 

*

 

John let out a sigh of relief as Captain Holmes darted back to his ship, his goon lugging Anderson and lagging behind.

 

 _I_ _'ll wait until they've all retired to bed before trying to save my squadmates._ John hung on tightly to the branch of the ash and tried to relax as he waited.

 

After what seemed like 3 hours but was actually only around 40 minutes, John saw all the crew members climb down a ladder to the bottom deck and disappear. John waited for another few minutes before scrampering down the tree.

 

_I can save my squadmates. I must save my squadmates. I **will** save my squadmates._

 

With unfaltering resolution, John made him way back to the infernal prison.

 

*

 

"John!? What are you doing back here?" Mike whispered urgently. "You should've gone back to camp!"

 

"Shh." John shushed his friend lightly. "I'm your captain Watson, of course I would come to rescue my dear soldiers." John explained as he began untying the ropes.

 

After fumbling with the ropes for a while (and failing to untie the knot), he paused to rest his hands. His fingers had turned red from rubbing against the rough rope. John stiffened as he sensed a shadow approaching from behind. In a split second, John was up and had punched whoever it was right in the cheekbones.

 

 

 

_It was Captain Holmes._

 

 

Although he was bleeding below his left cheekbone, Captain Holmes recovered instantaneously and drew out his cutlass in one swift motion, pointing the tip at John's throat. "Ah, good soldier. You've good an admirable fighting spirit. So was that why you were hiding up in that tree?" Captain Holmes sounded exceedingly pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm already somewhat done with the story, so I believe I can upload the entire edition in a matter of days. I don't want to spoil the story, so I can only say that there is a particularly saucy scene that I'm having difficulty writing. So uh.. look forward!  
> And I know some of you are going to ask "Hey terra, r anderson and donovan anderson and sally from the show?" No. No they're not, that's why I didn't tag them in the characters list. So have fun waiting for the next chapter. :)  
> -Terra


	3. Chapter 3

_Shit. He knew._ John cursed as he stared at the razor-sharp blade pointing at him. He edged backwards instinctively. 

 

 _I have failed to save my squadmates._ John could feel grief and guilt sweeping over him.

 

Amist his hopelessness, he heard Captain Holmes' velvety voice. "Let's strike a deal, Captain Watson, if I heard you right just now. I'll let all your soldiers go if you agree to stay on my ship in exchange for their freedom." 

 

"I agree." John replied without hesitation. It was one John Watson, a humble army doctor, for the freedom of seven exemplar soldiers. What reason was there to hesitate? John could see Captain Holmes pause before before a strange glint ignited in Captain Holmes' platinum eyes. With a smile, Captain Holmes lowered his sabre and went about cutting the ropes restraining John's squadmates.

 

John could feel his squadmates' concerned eyes on him as they trudged down the gangplank back onto land. He turned away from the gangplank, trying to hide his face from his cherished mates.

 

 _Land._ John unconciously furrowed his brow at that thought. When the sound of boots on the wooden plank subsided, he turned around and regarded his squadmates' retreating figured. They walked away slowly, shoulders slouched. Occasionally, one would turn around and peer sadly at John and shake his head reluctantly. 

 

 _It's all worth it._ John tried to quell the bitter feeling in his chest. 

 

While John was busy in thought, Captain Holmes had walked up to him and was standing next to him. "What's your name, soldier?" 

 

John looked up into a pair of breath-taking ashen eyes. "John. John Watson."

 

"So you're a captain in the military?"

 

"Yeah. And an army doctor." John looked away, disquieted by Captain Holmes' piercing gaze. 

 

"You're a doctor?"

 

"Yes."

 

"In fact, you're an army doctor." Captain Holmes was thoughtful.

 

John didn't answer and instead shifted his gaze up to study the other man. _What was Captain Holmes trying to say?_

 

"Any good?" Captain Holmes had that strange glint in his eyes again. 

 

"Very good." John managed to say, still intimidated by that chilling stare. 

 

"Very good," Captain Holmes echoed, walking over to the bow of the ship. "Then you can be our ship's doctor."

 

 _Ship-Ship's doctor?_ John was dismayed. _John Hamish Watson, the honourable doctor of a... a... Pirate ship?_

 

Captain Holmes has reached a small wheel located to the left of the bow and began turning it effortlessly. "Just raising the anchor, in case you run away again." John could see a mischeivious smile forming on Captain Holmes' face as he spoke. After raising the anchor, Captain Holmes walked over to a hole in the floorboards. The hole was as large as a tympani drum. He beckoned John to follow him. John complied, albeit gingerly. 

 

*

 

Sherlock climbed down a rope ladder to the bottom deck and knocked on a time-worn door closest to the ladder. After a few knocks, a heavily built man with slightly grey hair and barley coloured skin emerged from the room. 

 

"This is Lestrade, he will be your mentor for now. And he will find you an appropriate accommodation." Captain Holmes explained, then immediately climbed back up to the top deck again without looking at Lestrade. 

 

John turned to Lestrade after Captain Holmes had gone. "Hi, I'm Lestrade. Second-in-command on this ship." Lestrade gave a winsome smile, while extending his hand towards John. Lestrade white teeth formed a stark contrast to his tan skin. _How is his teeth is pearly white? Do the sailors get to brush their teeth on the ship?_ John was surprised anyone on board had such clean teeth.

 

"Uh... I'm John. The medical doctor on this ship... Uh. I guess?" John took the hand and tried to introduce himself. He felt awkward identifying himself with the seamen of the ship. 

 

"Well. Let's find you a room." Lestrade suggested and sensing John's uneasiness, added, "don't worry, Cap will introduce you to the crew tomorrow and then you'll know exactly what you are on this ship."

 

With that, Lestrade and John set out on their quest to hunt for John's domicile.

 

*

 

The next morning, John rose from his hammock early in the morning. He had picked up the habit of walking up early from his extensive army training. 

 

Nevertheless, he climbed onto the top deck to see all the crew members gathered around Captain Holmes, anticipation written clearly on their faces. 

 

"Let me introduce you to our ship's doctor, and nurse, John Watson." Sherlock announced before John had even finished pushing himself up from the bottom deck. John could hear catcalls from the seamen and felt his cheeks burn up as he closed the distance between himself and the slender Captain Holmes. 

 

Once John got close enough, he realised that something was amiss with the Captain. His face was extremely pale (I know that his face is naturally pale, but what I mean is that it's a bit paler than usual) and his lips were very faintly purple. He was also trembling delicately in the crisp morning breeze. 

 

"Captain Holmes, are you quite alright?" John inquired, he cocked his head slightly to the side signaling to the Captain that he wanted an honest answer. Captain Holmes opened his mouth to answer, but before the words left his mouth, he fainted. ~~(If this was a soap opera, this is where we would have the comercial break.)~~

 

Everybody on board the ship stared, unable to believe what had just happened. At that moment, John's mirthful laughter cut through the deafening silence. The sailors could only stare from the Captain to John in palpable confusion. Finally, John managed to control his fit of laughter.

 

"You-your Captain. He cut himself using a vinelike plant with red thorns, didn't he?" John asked, still giggling. 

 

"Yes." Lestrade was the first to recover and answered, remembering how the Captain has dragged the red thorn across his marble skin. "What is it?"

 

John had finally calmed down. "The plant your Captain used is known to the natives as Poison Ivy. Its thorns contain a perculiar poison that causes anyone who is pricked by it to pass out for three days, and then develop a fever for another two." 

 

Some of the seafarers grinned on hearing that. "This is rather comical, isn't it?" Lestrade had begun to chuckle. "Looks like it's time to put your skills to the test, doctor."

 

*

 

"Mmm..." Sherlock hummed as he nestled his head into his pillow. Sherlock felt lightheaded. He was lying on his side on what appeared to be a warm ball of fur. It felt dreamy, almost enchanting. He felt a shiver run down his spine as a soft, silky thread of hair brushed against his cheek. Sherlock knew that the scene was chimerical, but he didn't want to believe it was surreal. Presently, he felt someone push him into a supine position, thereafter, he felt a cold towel being pressed onto his forehead. 

 

Sherlock groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Everything around him was hazy. He could see a figure stooped over him, adjusting the towel. Sherlock blinked a few times as his vision adjusted. 

 

"John...?" Sherlock mumbled. _Am I still dreaming? John is standing so close to me..._

"Hmm. You're awake." John turned his attention from the towel to Sherlock. 

 

"Where am I?" Sherlock asked weakly, still remembering the ball of fur. 

 

"In your room, Captain Holmes." John explained professionally. "You've been out for 3 days. Here drink this."

 

John had turned to Sherlock's bedside table and was passing a bowl of brown tonic to Sherlock.

 

"Why did I black out?" Sherlock asked between gulps. He still couldn't believe John was standing right in front of him. _In his room._

"Because you saw my handsome face and all the blood rushed away from your brain?" John joked. 

 

Sherlock was incredulous. He was about to deny that he found John handsome when John spoke again. "Actually, it was because you scratched yourself with the thorn of a poisonous plant when you tried to fool a group of soldiers a few days ago."

 

"A group of soldiers that included you." Sherlock smirked. 

 

"Yes, and your tomfoolery resulted in me being your doctor and having to look after you." John faked a frown. _That expression looks adorable on him._

 

Sherlock regarded the doctor. "That reminds me. I forgot to congratulate you."

 

"On what?"

 

"About you becoming a permanent member of the Beekeeper."

 

Permanent member of the Beekeeper. John repeated those few words in his head. He felt a queer sense of emptiness in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't explain. Or perhaps, he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Sherlock's dream about being on a ball of fur. He didn't have that dream because his mum used to sing him a song about a particular warm kitty whenever he got sick. The thread of hair that brushed against sherlock's cheek was actually John's hair as he leaned over Sherlock to inspect his eyes(? Do doctors do that?). That tuff of hair lead to Sherlock's dream.  
> As usual, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> -Terra


End file.
